


in color

by sunfloweromi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art museum, Bus Stop, Café, Depression, Grief, Harry Styles - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, London, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Snow Storm, This Is Sad, Winter, a story with both a sad ending and a happy one, depressedlouis, larry au, larry one shot, lostharry, something i thought of in the middle of the night, something i wrote in the middle of the night, they found each other, very biased towards christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfloweromi/pseuds/sunfloweromi
Summary: Two strangers meet at a bus stop just before a terrible snowstorm sweeps all of London.Or, a boy with no color in his world meets a boy who's prone to losing the ones he loves.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 7





	in color

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first time posting on here so I hope you enjoy it. This is something I came up with right before I fell asleep one night, and the next day, I wrote it in about an hour.  
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought.
> 
> With love always,  
> Lizzy x

There isn’t much to tell, really. If I could tell you some different type of story, something more meaningful, or rather, something with more color, I promise you I would. However, I’m afraid the only stories we’re allowed to tell are our very own. And sure, I suppose I could make something up, but there’s nothing more colorless than a lie, and nothing more genuinely beautiful than the truth.

It begins on a snowy day. The story does, actually, not the life in itself. No, his life began some twenty four years ago. But it was in those twenty four years that he spent his days in a colorless, monotone daze. Waltzing through the world with a fake smile on his face.

The colors began on a snowy day. They didn’t show up immediately, though, not at all. It began like any other day. Louis woke up to his alarm clock irritating his ears and shut it off with a groan. He sat up from his bed and frowned at the snow falling from his window.

He hates snow. He always has. There’s no particular reason for it, but he hates snow. It’s slippery and dirty and cold. He absolutely hates the cold.

He showers and brushes his teeth and dresses and goes to work at some art museum in his city. He’s always had a taste for art, but he doesn’t draw. He never has. Just likes to appreciate it.

He’s one of the security officers. It’s not like he’s paid to tackle people or anything, just to make sure nobody touches anything or steals; he keeps an eye out. And if anything does have to get physical, the police are right down the road.

Unfortunately, he lives a decently long bus trip away from his job. He takes the bus in the morning and evening, every day except Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays. And holidays of course, but sometimes he works on holiday, too, just because he has nothing planned anyway, and it’s extra cash.

It’s snowing, and his sweater isn’t keeping him warm enough. The day hasn’t yet revealed even a dash of color. The only color he gets in his whole life is when he allows his eyes to behold the paintings and various forms of art in the museum. And yet, it’s still a monotone existence. Nothing sparks even the smallest of emotions.

He feels, often, that he’s stuck in an empty jar with its lid screwed tightly shut. He can see through it, He can look at everything around him. But it’s still empty. And the reflection of the glass disorients the picture of the world. The air is thin and he’s closed in.

Yes, that’s how he feels. And he used to think that, maybe, if he involved himself in something colorful, something meaningful, that the jar would undo itself, that he could set himself free. But nothing ever happened. And he was reaching a point where he stopped caring whether or not he was free. When you live a meaningless existence, and you always have; when you’ve been nothing but a background character your entire life, what is the point?

The colors began when the sun fell. That’s pretty odd, of course. But life can be that way sometimes. The sun had fallen hours ago and his phone lit up and told him there was an alert for a snowstorm.

He sat at the bench and waited for his bus to arrive. His sweater wasn’t even a little bit warm enough to keep him comfortable. The snow that was caking every inch of the ground was pure white and honestly kind of beautiful, as it reflected off the light of the moon.

The colors began just then, when he looked up at the moon. He thought maybe, for a second, that he felt something. And then a stranger sat beside him on the bench, a well enough distance away from him. He didn’t care to look over at them, as it was common for such an occurrence; he wasn’t the only one who took the bus, after all.

He found himself looking down at the snow. It was so very cold. He might as well embrace it if he was going to be here awhile. The snow did seem to be turning into something of a storm, and his bus was in fact 15 minutes late.

“Hi there,” said the stranger beside him. He immediately recognized him as a man, due to the sound of his voice. It was low, but also warm, in a way.

He looked up at the stranger, startled. He was sort of beautiful; green eyes that were very vivid from the light of the moon and the lamp on the other side of the road. He had brown, curly hair, and a beanie sat upon his head. Yes, he was sort of beautiful. But he was still a stranger, and he was still unsettling.

“H-Hi," Louis replied, finally.

“What are you thinking about?”

_Why not talk to this stranger? It’s not like we’ll ever see each other again, _he reasoned with himself.__

__“The moon,” he responded._ _

__The boy with the curly hair nodded. “It is nice out tonight.”_ _

__“Mm. Yeah,” he agreed, “but cold.”_ _

__“You don’t like the cold?” he questioned. And no, of course he doesn’t like the cold. Who does?_ _

__“You do?” Louis fought back._ _

__He chuckled softly. “Sometimes. Not to this extent, I suppose.. It looks like a storm is coming.”_ _

__“Yeah, it does.”_ _

__It was quiet for a number of minutes. It grew to be pretty awkward. They were both waiting for a bus that seemed not to have been coming. But where else would he go? His car is at home, and there’s nowhere else to stay._ _

__“The bus doesn’t seem to be coming,” the stranger said, breaking the silence._ _

__“No, it doesn’t.”_ _

__“Do you have somewhere to go?” curly asked, quietly, for some reason._ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Me either.”_ _

__And it was quiet again. Two strangers sitting on a bench at a bus stop in the midst of a snowstorm waiting to happen, with absolutely nowhere to go._ _

__“What are you thinking about?” he asked the stranger with the green eyes._ _

__“Erm. Sunflowers, actually.”_ _

__“Why’s that?”_ _

__He suddenly got nervous. His cheeks turned pink and he started fidgeting with his hands. “I thought that thinking of something warm and sunny would make it a bit less cold. And, er, they’re also my mum’s favorite flower.”_ _

__“Oh. Is it working?”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Are you any warmer, I mean.”_ _

__“O-oh. Yeah, I think, maybe?”_ _

__“Hm. Maybe I’ll try that as well.”_ _

__The stranger chuckled at that. Louis sort of liked the sound._ _

__And so he tried to think of something warm and sunny. He’d never really been anywhere particularly warm. He’s always lived here, in London. Going to work and staying home on his days off; unless, of course, he had shopping to do. And sure, he went out as a kid, but only during recess. Nothing sticks out, though, really._ _

__He couldn’t, for whatever reason, stop thinking about the stranger's green eyes, especially in contrast with the white of the snow. It didn’t warm him up, nothing could. But the picture wouldn’t leave his mind, so he decided to look up at him again. Louis found his eyes. They were puffier and redder than he had noticed before, in his first glance. His whole face seemed a tad bit more pink. There were curls sticking out of his salmon colored beanie, and he was looking down at his hands. His hands that were shaking relentlessly, and fidgeting with each other._ _

__Noticing his gaze, curly turned to look at him as well. And finally, Louis could see his green eyes. They were almost brighter, as the moon had risen higher in the sky and shone down on them peacefully. The snow was getting heavier and falling on each of their faces but they continued to look in each other’s eyes. It felt like minutes had passed but it was really just a few seconds before the two of them awkwardly turned away._ _

__“We should- we should probably find some shelter,” green eyes finally said._ _

__He thought about that, walking around with some stranger to see if they could find somewhere to stay until the storm passes; the stranger with the green eyes and curly hair. Why not?_ _

__“Yeah, probably.”_ _

__Curly stood up, wiping as much snow as he could off of his body with his pale hands. “Well, then. Shall we?”_ _ __he asked, looking down at him._ _

__Instead of responding, Louis looked up at him and stood, and they started walking._ _

__Louis' hands were in his pockets, and curly rubbed his palms together in an attempt to warm himself up._ _

__“Erm, I just moved here. I don’t know the city very well,” the stranger stated._ _

__“I live just outside of the main part of town, so I don’t know my way around much, either,” Louis replied._ _

__“Lucky for us, then, yeah?” he laughed. Louis chuckled along._ _

__"What's your name?" curly asked._ _

__"Louis," he responded._ _

__"I'm Harry," he smiled back._ _

__Harry. The curly-headed, green-eyed stranger's name is Harry._ _

__So they kept walking, keeping to the sidewalk, and hoping they could find some sort of shelter. They didn’t speak much at all. Occasionally Harry would point something out along the street that he thought was fascinating, or amusing. And Louis would just laugh with him and agree, that yes, that was quite interesting, or that was pretty funny._ _

__But, mostly, it was quiet. The only sound was the wind as the snow poured down on them, not-so-gently. The two of them would shiver, look up at the moon, and just keep walking and walking and walking. And yet, as dark as it was out there, he thought that maybe he could find color in the christmas lights adorning the shops around them, or the green in Harry's eyes, or the light of the moon, or even the white of the snow._ _

__The wind started to get worse and worse, louder. The snow poured down on them with no mercy, and it was getting increasingly hard to see. It was bone-chillingly cold at this point. And Harry looked at him before holding his arm out, offering the comfort of another body._ _

__Louis was hesitant at first, but it was too cold for him to care much. He invited himself in, and wrapped an arm around Harry as well. It made the cold just a little more bearable._ _

__One arm around the other, the two of them helplessly trudged along the empty sidewalk in the middle of the city, and in the middle of the night._ _

__The cold was intense, biting. Almost like thousands of needles driving themselves into your skin. It was so cold that it burned, and Louis found himself clinging completely to Harry._ _

__He was beginning to feel sick and a little lightheaded, and he knew he wouldn't be standing on his own if it weren't for Harry. But Harry leaned against him as well, both of them completely relying on each other's weight and body heat._ _

__Finally, they spotted a small shop with its lights on and a sign that said “OPEN.” They looked at each other, blue lips and scattered breaths, and began to walk faster, hoping to make it before they collapsed into the snow._ _

__Harry's grasp around him tightened, and Louis couldn’t exactly say he hated it. But he knew it was because they were walking at a faster pace, and the two of them would be much colder if he let go._ _

__The shop almost seemed miles away. His whole body was shaking violently from the storm. You’d think his heart would be racing in his chest at this point, but it almost felt like it had begun to slow down._ _

__His breathing was scattered and he felt Harry's eyes on him, looking at him with a worried expression on his face._ _

__They were walking as fast as they could, but they were both very weak. Especially Louis, as he had a much smaller figure, and Harry had dressed more appropriately than he had for the merciless weather._ _

__At last, they made it to the door. It was a coffee shop. Louis was the first to let go before opening the door and nearly falling into the floor. Harry was right behind him. He noticed Louis was about to fall and grasped onto his arm until he found his balance._ _

__The door behind them slammed shut._ _

__“Oh my goodness!” yelped an unfamiliar voice._ _

__The two of them looked up to find an elderly woman behind a counter._ _

__“How long have you two been out there? It’s been a terrible storm.”_ _

__Louis couldn’t find himself able to utter a single word. He hadn’t dressed very well for such a storm; he expected today to have been just like any other. Cold and wet, but certainly not anything like a snowstorm. Not to mention how small and frail he is. And before Harry could catch him, his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor._ _

__Immediately Harry was at his side, holding Louis in his arms as gently as possible._ _

__“Hey, hey. You’re alright,”_ _ __Harry whispered in his ear, and many things alike._ _

__He looked up at the woman._ _

__“D-do you have anything warm? L-like a blanket or something?”_ _

__“Yes, yes of course,” the woman exclaimed, and disappeared somewhere in the cafe._ _

__Harry cautiously held onto Louis. His entire face was pale and blue and his eyes couldn’t keep themselves open._ _

__“Hey. C’mon. You’re gonna be fine. Look at me.”_ _

__He opened his eyes and looked into Harry's. They were green. Yes, they were so green. And they were beautiful. Harry's face was a lot closer to his, now. And his eyes were a lot darker than before. Not in a scary way, in sort of a comforting way. They were like christmas trees. And he found that maybe, he did actually like snow. And maybe, he did like winter. Even though his body is overcome with tremors and his skin feels numb, he knows that he feels better than he's ever felt in his whole life. He's escaped from that jar. He's broken out of his cell and looked into the endless dark sky and he sees the green in Harry's eyes and he feels the strangest sense of what he can only identify as peace._ _

__“I… I like your eyes,” he muttered weakly._ _

__His voice was so fragile it almost seemed a miracle Harry could hear him at all._ _

__At this comment, tears began to well in Harry's eyes._ _

__“You’re gonna be alright. We’ll be alright. Do you believe me?”_ _ __Harry whispered, knowing only he could hear him._ _

__“Y-yeah. Yes.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__Louis hummed. His eyes closed. He was content. He had fallen in love with the idea of color, and he was glad that Harry's eyes were the last thing he had looked into._ _

__His green eyes._ _

__Harry held him close. What would have come of the two if hypothermia hadn’t attacked Louis' frail body? Maybe he would have had endless days filled with splashes of color; art in the form of a boy with a salmon colored beanie and curly hair and a voice like hot cocoa and eyes like Christmas morning._ _

__Maybe Harry would have been able to finally love someone he didn’t have to lose._ _


End file.
